


The Saloon

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-12
Updated: 2002-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing a hand of cards with Ezra, a bystander sees something that--just maybe--he shouldn't have seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Saloon

**Author's Note:**

> A bystander story - written for Gayle, who created the gorgeous art that accompanies this story.

  


He brushes passed me as I make my way through the crowded saloon to where Ezra Standish is about to begin a new game of poker. I couldn't hear the words passing between him and Buck Wilmington but the uncustomary earnest expression on Wilmington's face, and the 'mind-yer-own-business' look on Tanner's tells me it probably has something to do with Larabee.

Sure enough, Larabee is leaning on the bar with his back to the room, sipping at a shot of whiskey -- alone in the crowd. He's radiating an aura of _stay away from me or I'll shoot you_ , which has Standish glancing back over his shoulder, ill at ease.

I try to hide the pleasure that brings to me. A good omen for the game ahead, especially if Larabee continues to brood right behind Standish's back. There's not much that can ruffle the handsome Gambler, but a Chris Larabee in a foul mood can do it. Hell, Chris Larabee in any mood can do it, and not just to Ezra Standish.

I take a seat at the poker table, accepting the pleasantries given with that fine Southern accent. The only readable spark I would normally get all evening comes racing into those keen eyes as I lay my money down on the table in front of me... and then he is all business. I don't mind playing poker with Standish--even though he takes me for practically every dime--because he fills the time with unusual and interesting anecdotes and tales. They are meant to break a man's concentration--and they do break mine--but it's a pleasure worth paying for.

The game plays on, though it's not just Standish's attention that keeps wandering to the dark figure still leaning heavily on the saloon bar. The bottle in front of Larabee is still surprisingly full, and then it hits me that he rarely drinks more than he can handle... unlike most of the yahoos that fill the town every Saturday night.

Though there was that one time a month back when Wilmington and the boy brought him back from Purgatorio and he broke a hitching post while drunk on whiskey.

Didn't he end up spending the night in a cell at the jailhouse?

I found out later that he weren't drunk of no accord. Seems it was the anniversary of when he lost his wife and boy. All Seven disappeared the following day, riding out to protect a lady friend of Larabee's, and when they came back less than a week later they had Larabee in the back of a wagon with a gunshot wound to the chest... and Tanner missing. Rumors went racing around the town about how that woman had turned out to be the one who'd paid a man to kill Larabee's wife and boy, and how Tanner had gone to track her down.

He didn't find her, and a letter arrived on the stagecoach soon after. Someone overheard Mrs. Travis talking to Mrs. Potter. Seems this Gaines woman had been so obsessed with having him for her own that she'd even called herself Mrs. Larabee in that letter.

Damn shame on more than one account. She was a good-looking woman, except for the sourness of her down-turned mouth, but many a man overlooked that one physical flaw with foolish dreams of having her for himself.

As I sit here thinking about that woman, I recall the tale Standish told a few weeks back of a spider that ate the male as soon as they finished mating--a black widow. Kinda fitting description for that Gaines woman.

The sound of breaking glass and raised voices catches at me and my thoughts turn away from her as I watch Sanchez wade in to part the fighting pair. The big man is always a force to be reckoned with, and he sorts out the two right away.

I take a quick glance around the crowded saloon, filled with ranch hands wasting a week's wages on whiskey and whores... and then I spot him. I wonder how long Vin Tanner has been sitting there, hiding in the darkened shadows at the far corner of the saloon. He hasn't noticed me watching him, least not yet, and I follow the direction of his eyes as he stares across the room.

Larabee.

Then it strikes me how strange that look was; filled with want, and with need... and not just any kind of want neither. I've seen a similar look on a man fixing his eye on a lusty whore, except there's more here than just a man wanting to scratch an itch.

I look back at Tanner but that unguarded expression has gone. Movement across the table brings me back to the game and I look over the small pile of money to meet the green eyes of Ezra Standish once more.

They are unreadable, just as always, except there is no teasing light in the hidden depths. Instead they are deadly serious, cautious, like a snake poised ready to strike. I don't cheat but I have this sudden dread that he's gonna call me on it anyway and shoot me with that tiny gun he has strapped to his forearm. The fear coils in my belly, but then my moment of uncertainty passes as Larabee pushes away from the bar and heads towards the back of the saloon, drawing Standish's attention away from me. I sigh in relief but I cannot help but watch Larabee's progress as he pushes his way through the crowded saloon. It occurs to me that he's taking the straightest line to Vin Tanner, and yet how could he have known that Tanner was there?

 _The mirror, idiot_ , I berate myself.

He must have seen Tanner reflected in the mirror over the back wall of the bar. And if he had then he must have seen that _wanting_ expression on Tanner's face too.

So what did Tanner want from Chris Larabee? Or _with_ Chris Larabee? Maybe that woman wasn't the only one obsessed with the handsome gunfighter.

Still, they've been a little out of sorts with each other since they got back from that woman's ranch... and many folks thought Tanner had ridden off for good. But he came back after his unsuccessful search for the Gaines woman. He stayed, and so did the others, covertly watching over Larabee as he healed.

It wasn't hard to miss the way Tanner kept close to Larabee, offering him a strong shoulder to lean on--or maybe even to cry on--finding a reason to stay within six feet of the injured man. Can't recall the number of times I saw Larabee sitting out on the boardwalk in those first weeks, with a thick blanket draped around his shoulders... and Vin Tanner leaning on a wall or post close by.

It annoyed the hell out of Mrs. Travis who, no doubt, had figured on being the one Larabee would turn to for solace, expecting to be the one to fuss over him. She'd had her eyes on Larabee since the moment he strode along the main street with Tanner by his side, risking his life to save Nathan Jackson from a hanging.

"...Raise you five..."

I look back down at the cards in my hand with surprise, having forgotten all about the game that I was supposed to be playing. I realize that this whole hand has been played out while my mind has been elsewhere so I have no idea what cards anyone else might be holding. My own are hardly worth bothering with... a pair of eights, a two, and a couple of picture cards so I drop my hand in self-disgust. The hand ends soon after but I barely notice Standish raking in the pot as my attention has crossed the room to the dark corner where Tanner and Larabee are leaning across a table, talking intently. I cannot see Larabee's face but I read Tanner's lips...

_You know what I want, Cowboy._

Cowboy. Ain't nobody else got the guts to call Chris Larabee a _cowboy_. Only Tanner can say that to his face and get away with it whereas anybody else is likely to get a gun shoved in his face. Saying that, I don't figure he'd ever actually shoot anybody over it, not unless he was already intending to shoot 'em anyway.

Still, it's these small things that make a man wonder just what kind of friendship they have. And then I realise I don't need to wonder as it was all in Tanner's eyes just a short while ago... and it has always been in their body language as they move like two parts of a whole. They are far too comfortable in each other's presence: touching without thought, and reading each other without the need of words.

Seen the same thing with paired wolves, and with mating eagles.

If most anyone else placed such a casual hand upon either then I swear Larabee or Tanner would be shocked, irritated or affronted. In fact, I seem to recall overhearing Josiah talking 'bout how that railway boss kept touching Larabee, and how Larabee kept shrugging off that touch like it came from a leper. Never seen either of them looking uncomfortable touching each other: a slap on the shoulder, a reach for an arm to catch the other's attention. Or the way their eyes meet and hold for longer than is necessary for the sake of respectability, and the way they clasp each others arm when they part that's so much more intimate than a handshake.

Not that it's any of my business what these two men get up to... or any other two men come to think of it, and I ain't about to call either of them out on it. Nope. It's nobody's business but their own 'cause it's not like what they're doing is gonna hurt anybody. And it's not like there are plenty of women to go around out on the frontier since Wicks Town closed down... though I doubt either of them good-looking fellas ever needed to worry on that score.

Hell, Larabee could have Mrs. Travis for a wife any time he asked judging by the way she flirts so openly with him... and I'll bet Tanner has broken a few hearts in his time.

Weren't there a rumor that he ran off with another man's wife when the Judge made them escort that wagon train?

Peterson and Jefferies rise from their seats, leaving me sitting across from Ezra Standish and I watch his pale, soft, agile fingers as they play with the deck of cards. I glance up into his face, expecting to see them keen eyes intent on shuffling the deck but instead he is staring at me again. That glint of menace has returned and I suddenly see it for what it is... protectiveness.

He knows about them, and he knows that I've figured it out too. I decide to reassure him, hoping I'm reading him right otherwise I'll have a lot of explaining to do.

"It ain't none of my business... and I ain't gonna make it my business neither."

He nods slightly, his eyes losing that hardness as he recognizes the truth in my words. A smile curls his lips and, some how, I figure I've just taken a step from being an occasional poker partner into being a friend... and that feels pretty good.

I glance back towards the far corner, taken aback when I realise Larabee and Tanner have gone. A momentary image of the pair of them cuddling up in the livery catches at me, seeing stalks of hay caught in blond strands and brown curls as they do things to each other I ain't never done, not even with a woman. I feel the heat burn on my face--and in my groin. Suddenly, I realise that I don't find the idea of those two men finding pleasure with each other in the least bit offensive... quite the contrary... and I clamp down on those imaginings, knowing I'd be mulling over those ideas with the help of my right hand later tonight.

"Care for _another game of chance, Mr. Vanden?"_

When I look deep into those green eyes, I see a new light in there, seeing my own reflection in the blackness of large pupils. Devilry takes hold of me as I interpret the double meaning and the shaded desire. I lean in closer, knowing I'd have hell to play if I'm wrong in my assumption.

"Any particular game in mind, Mr. Standish? Something in private, perhaps?"

He leans back in his chair, and grins, the light glinting off the gold tooth, and something tells me I won't be needing my own right hand tonight after all.

THE END


End file.
